


The Entire Truth

by Corinna



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: sga_flashfic, M/M, Pining, Tava beans, Unrequited, offworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-09
Updated: 2006-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corinna/pseuds/Corinna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The mind is its own place, and in itself / Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.” - <em>Paradise Lost</em></p><p>Written for the SGA Flashfic “This is Not Happening” challenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Entire Truth

Rodney's mother had been a biology major in college, and when he started out as a scientist, she used to tell him that he had to be especially careful about double-checking his results. “A mind like yours, Rodney,” she'd say, “it'd be all too easy to talk yourself into seeing what you want to see.” But his mother -- well, she wasn't an idiot, she provided half of his genetic material, but she didn't know what the hell she was talking about.

True, there'd been a few times when he'd proven her right, though he'd like to think that even the destruction of most of a solar system ended up being small potatoes next to the number of times he's saved the entire Milky Way. But more often than not, his intellect works the other way around: it forces him to see the entire bitter truth.

Nights like this, for example. Their team had gated to P35-477 for the first time this morning, and found a beautiful warm day, with a sky so clear and blue even Rodney was amazed by it. Sheppard was automatically in a good mood just from standing under that sky, and they spent the whole walk to the village contentedly bickering about nothing, about what they'd had for dinner the night before and whether Cadman and Beckett are good for each other.

Sheppard is good for Rodney. Rodney knows that as certainly as he knows the atomic structure of naquadah. Sheppard has made Rodney a better man -- a braver one, more resourceful, more reliable. It's because of Sheppard that Rodney knows what it is to risk your own life for someone else's, to do it over and over again willingly, and to know that he'd do the same for you.

Simply put, Sheppard makes Rodney happy. He comes by with videos, with snacks, with lessons in weaponry and tactics, and he makes sure Rodney doesn't work too late when there's no imminent disaster. He sits with Rodney in the mess hall without thinking about it, without looking first to see if there's somewhere else he'd rather be, and he knows Rodney loves the blue Jello, though Rodney's never told him why. He takes Rodney along with him when he explores the city. Sheppard doesn't want to beat Rodney to publishing the results of their adventures: he just thinks it's cool. He makes Rodney want to list him as second author. He makes Rodney want to do a lot of things.

Sheppard isn't as easy with anyone else on Atlantis, not that Rodney has seen, and for a long time Rodney let himself believe that meant something. That Sheppard was just biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to kiss Rodney's mouth, to let Rodney touch him the way he aches to. But Rodney knows better now.

It wasn't Chaya and that ridiculous glowy voodoo she worked on Sheppard that made him realize it; that was something else entirely, and Rodney's never held it against Sheppard, not really. Instead, it was a mission about three months later, a completely successful and uninteresting trip to a world where they had tava beans to trade. The leader of the village had been a woman named Nadora, a dark-haired beauty with wide, intelligent eyes and a sensual smile that made poor Ford blush just to look at her. Sheppard hadn't come back to the inn until it was his turn to take last watch, and he'd unapologetically sported a hickey the size of Rhode Island under the collar of his BDUs.

The next evening, they'd returned to Nadora's home for another dinner. Sheppard had been given the seat at Nadora's right, and Rodney the next one over. At dinner, Sheppard was usually the one making jokes, keeping the conversation lively, but tonight he was talking mostly to Nadora, laughing with her about all the hundred and one uses for the tava bean. It was the sort of conversation Rodney had had with him a thousand times -- in fact, it was pretty much the exact same conversation they'd had during the mission briefing -- but when Sheppard had it with her, it was different. His voice was more intimate, the sounds of secrets and honey mixed in with his usual flat drawl, and that look he had, the one that made Rodney feel like he was in on some private joke, was more intense when he looked at her, like it was just the two of them alone at the big round table. Rodney hated that world.

He hasn't been back, and neither has Sheppard. In time, Rodney has let himself stop thinking about what he learned there, but now it's P35-477 and it's all sickeningly familiar. This time, her name is Rielene, but she's tall and slim and long-haired and beautiful, just like Nadora was. Even Teyla watches her with something like awe, and no one has ever looked at Rodney the way Sheppard looks at Rielene, not even once. Rielene smiles at Sheppard, and he makes a joke in a low smooth voice. Her laughter is bubbly and bright, and Rodney hates her so much he can't breathe.

“Hey, don't wait for me going back to camp, OK? Ronon's got first watch, he'll get you back safe,” Sheppard says. “Rielene has some ideas for how they can protect themselves when the Wraith come. I want to go over them with her.”

Rodney just nods.

Maybe Sheppard knows and he's trying to spare Rodney's feelings. Maybe he just thinks he's being discreet. It doesn't matter. When it's Rodney's turn to take watch, he sits by the fire, looking up at the clear night sky. It's always better to know the truth: fewer false results that way, fewer mistakes down the road. Rodney doesn't let himself think about how quiet the night is without Sheppard's snuffling half-snore, there's no point to it. He stirs the embers of the fire, keeping it warm, and braces himself for the inevitable morning.


End file.
